Inamorata
by PippaCavalli
Summary: The untold story of Rosalie and Emmett. Even years after her attack and subsequent transformation, Rosalie is still deeply traumatized by her experiences. Will Emmett be able to break through and show her what it's like to truly be loved? RPOV, Cannon.
1. An Aspect of Love

**Inamorata**

**Summary: **After the circumstances leading up to Rosalie's transformation, placing her trust in another man is the last thing she ever wants to do. But after discovering Emmett in the forest and asking Carlisle to bring him into their family, how will she be able to move on from her past in order to be with the person she's fallen in love with?

**Rating:** M

**POV: **Rosalie

**Couples: **R/Em

**Disclaimer:**I do not have any affiliation to Twilight or Stephanie Meyers

Watching someone transition from the living to the undead is significantly different from enduring it yourself. Being outside of the experience is a thousand times worse. It was hard to fathom that such a strong, well-built man could appear so vulnerable and helpless. I remained plastered against the far wall of Carlisle's study while he tended to our newest family member; I hadn't moved in almost three days. I knew instinctually that we were close to the end, his heart thrumming violently inside of his chest, the erratic rhythm humming in my ears. I didn't want to be standing there, watching this man suffer but I was the one who orchestrated his fate so I felt that I should be there to see him through it, even if it were only as a ghost in the corner.

"We're almost there," Esme's liquid honey voice broke through the vicious trilling of his dying body. Her small hands squeezed my shoulders and she brushed a stray lock of hair from my eyes. I wished then that I had the words to tell her how deeply I cared for her and Carlisle and even Edward, but nothing would come. I settled for an almost imperceptible nod instead and I caught her somber smile out of the corner of my eye as she glided towards Carlisle.

It had been quite awhile since I had any decent measure of time without making use of a clock, but as the venom hurdled him towards immortality, I suddenly felt like I had been standing in the same spot for decades, not days. His body began seizing on the table, his wrists straining against the vampire-strength straps Carlisle had fashioned for just this occasion, his face so warped and contorted in delirious pain that I wished for a moment that I still had the ability to throw up. I willed myself to run, to scream, to do anything besides remain stagnant, but my eyes slipping shut was the only reprieve my body allowed. The man began to roar, the deep-chested sound reverberating off the walls and shaking the house on its frame. I heard Edward barreling towards the house and into the office, surely picking up on Carlisle and Esme's desperate attempts to restrain a man twice the size and strength of any newborn vampire they'd ever met.

And just as suddenly as the commotion had begun, it stopped. A low groan came from the makeshift bed and I heard Carlisle release the straps.

"What's happened to me?" His voice was rich and thick, much smoother than Edward's and throatier than Carlisle's. I had never heard a voice like his before, and I was surprised by the warmth that just a few words could settle into my body.

I was glad that Edward was focused on our newest charge, helping our "father" to explain this man's fate. Had he caught on to what I was thinking, I would have been mortified. Since my death, I had not thought of any man with anything more than contempt; it had even been an immense struggle for me to not treat Carlisle with distain. But when I saw this dying man with a face so eerily similar to Vera's little boy, I found myself desperate to change his circumstances, even if I couldn't be the one directly responsible for it. I just hoped that he wouldn't resent me for the rest of his eternity.

I heard the cot shift and I opened my eyes in time to see him sit up, his naked chest broad and solid, each well-defined muscle flexing as he moved. Something low in my stomach coiled and I pushed back into the wall, taken aback by the assault such a simple thing could have on my body.

"Do you have any recollection of what's happened to you? Of who you are?" Carlisle asked, his elbows resting on his knees and his fingers tented under his chin.

"I…My name is Emmett McCarty, I know that much. I'm twenty…I think," he trailed off, his brow furrowing.

"Twenty will do," Edward interjected quietly, but the man – Emmett – ignored him.

"Why can't I remember?" He asked lowly. To see him so distraught pulled at my chest, but I made no move to do anything to comfort him.

"It is a natural reaction to the venom," Carlisle explained calmly. "Sometimes it's better not to try and remember too much; it can do more harm than good." I knew the last comment was directed towards me, but I studiously ignored him, choosing instead to focus on a painting that hung above his desk.

"I remember being attacked and then I remember feeling like I was flying, thinking that this is what it felt like to go to wherever people go when they die. And I remember the most gorgeous face I've ever seen. I thought she was an angel…" He looked up suddenly and his eyes went wide with astonishment.

"But…how…she's so…I'm so…how?" He blubbered, clearly trying to put together how I managed to carry him over 100 miles without killing myself.

"She is one of us, too," Esme spoke then, resting her hand on his forearm. "Emmett, this is Rosalie," she gestured towards me, holding out her hand for me to come towards them. I moved silently across the room, panic rising with each step but I forced my face to remain stoic and unchanging, refusing to betray the turmoil that was boiling inside of my head. Edward cocked an eyebrow but said nothing, and for that I was grateful.

I dropped my left hand into Esme's for a brief moment and extended my right towards Emmet who even sitting was almost at eye level with me. "It's a pleasure to…" I cut off by two enormous arms wrapping tightly around my body, effectively silencing me.

"Thank you!" He practically cried into my shoulder, cradling me against him. I stood stoic and in shock for a short moment before wrenching myself away from him and fleeing the room without so much as a sound.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

If I still had functional tear ducts, they would've been completely dry by the time Edward found me. I had no real explanation for my reaction, nor did I want to try and explain myself to the likes of Edward. As I sensed him nearing, I began reciting multiplication tables in my head to keep him out of my thoughts.

"Stop it, Rose," His voice was quiet but hard. He was standing about a yard away from me, leaning casually against a large oak tree, his hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers.

"Go to hell," I growled, my fists bawling at my sides as I spun away from him, ready to sprint further into the forest.

"There's really no point in that, Rose. I'm faster than you; I'll catch you in no time," he noted indifferently. I could feel his eyes burning into the back of my neck. "This is what _you_ wanted. _You_ were the one who brought him to Carlisle; _you_ were the one who begged for him to be turned. And now that he's one of us, he's _your _responsibility." He paused, pushing away from the tree and stepping in front of me, mere inches from my face. "What are you so afraid of?" He held my gaze unwaveringly. He was only four inches taller than me, but I felt positively diminutive as he stared me down. It was one of the many things that unsettled me about Edward. I loved him as my family member, but I was still the most uncomfortable around him which made the situation all the more difficult.

I squared my shoulders and stepped forward into him, forcing him to move backwards a pace. "I'm not afraid of a damned thing, Edward," I snarled, my chest heaving.

"You can try to keep me from your head all you want, Rosalie, but it doesn't take a mind reader to know that bolting from a room is not a normal response when someone is comfortable in a given situation," he commented, arching an eyebrow knowingly.

I was cornered. I knew it as well as he did. But that didn't change the fact that I still didn't understand _why _I had reacted the way I did. Was it because he was a man? Was it because I was still wholly uncomfortable with physical affection? Was it because he was _happy_ to bear this curse? Was it a combination of all of those? Was it any of those at all?

Edward's face softened then and I realized that he had followed my train of thought seamlessly. I sighed.

"Rose, it is okay to be unsure about all of this, but if he's going to safely transition into our world and not ruin everything we've worked so hard for, we _all _need to demonstrate solidarity. And I stand by what I said earlier; you wanted him, so he's your responsibility. This doesn't mean that we all won't be here to help you teach him to control his bloodlust and live according to our lifestyle, but you have got to play the major role."

I had a sudden flashback to when I was 8 years old and my father had bought me a kitten – something I had been begging for since I could talk. He had given me a very similar speech and while the situation I was currently in called for a somber tone, I couldn't help but let out a short, staccato laugh. The corners of Edward's mouth twitched as he caught the memory, but he quickly became impassive again, his hands returning to his pockets as he stepped away from me, facing back in the direction of our house.

"Is Carlisle mad?" I asked then, realizing how inappropriate my reaction had been.

"No. He understands you, Rosalie. Far better than I do, even with my weighty advantage," he replied offhandedly, continuing to move away from me.

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. It was an unnecessary human habit, but one I retained nonetheless.

"Are you coming?" He called, already a good 200 feet away from me.

_Yes._

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


	2. Sparkle Me

_A/N: Thank you to those that added this story to their favorites/alerts! I am going to do my best to keep this as in-character as possible. I've always been fascinated by Rosalie and Emmett's relationship, but I had a hard time swallowing that Rosalie just found Emmett and fell in love with him right then and there considering what she had been through. I don't intend for this to be terribly long, but who knows. My goal is to examine the beginning of their relationship and then important snapshots leading up to Bella's arrival in Forks. I will try and keep updates regular, but I am a research scientist and unfortunately scientific publications take prescient over fictional ones. However, if you are all very nice and send some reviews, I'll do my best to keep things rolling along :) ~Pippa_

The atmosphere in the house unexpectedly easy; I had been anticipating some backlash for my actions, but everything appeared perfectly relaxed. Esme, Carlisle, and a now clothed Emmett had relocated to the front parlor, a much warmer, sunnier room than the study which was paneled in heavy mahogany with only two high windows to let in the light. Living deep in the woods of Appalachia had its keen advantages, particularly the significant lack of humans for over 50 miles in any direction. Even though it was sunnier than many locations that we could've chosen or had chosen in the past, we were so secluded that we were able to go out in the sun without fear of exposure. Currently, Emmett was sitting on the couch nearest to the wall of windows under a large patch of sunlight. He was staring at his arms in wonder, turning them over and over again with a look of sheer amazement spread over his features. He reminded me of a young child at Christmas; it was as though someone had given him exactly what he had wanted and he couldn't believe it was really in front of him.

Esme looked away from our newest family member and caught my eye, a kind, sad smile playing on her lips. I knew how desperately she wanted to help me, but she loved me too much to try and interfere. She knew me well enough to understand that when I was ready to deal with something, I would; but pushing me to do so would only force me further inside of myself.

I was still wary of the gamut of emotions coursing through my brain; I couldn't quite wrap my head around how it was possible for me to have wanted nothing more than to comfort this man and at the same time be nowhere near him. I was beginning to think I had gone completely mad. But regardless of what I was feeling, I knew what was anticipated of me, so I set out to meet those expectations.

"Emmett," I began, moving to sit beside him on the couch. "I apologize for the way I behaved earlier, it was entirely inappropriate of me." I realized how stiff and formal that sounded, but I had been raised to be a proper lady and I saw no point in shedding that persona after I became a vampire. If I was going to retain my human memories for my entire existence, I may as well use the beneficial ones to my advantage.

"It's really okay," he answered, looking away from his luminescent skin and taking in mine. "Carlisle explained to me that not everyone takes to this whole 'vampire' thing as well as I have. I mean, I don't see why anyone _wouldn't_ want this; I mean besides the whole using blood for sustenance thing…but everyone is different. I'm sorry for being so forward, I was just very grateful to be alive. Well, as alive as a biologically dead person, anyways." He grinned wide, his eyes lighting up at his own joke.

Esme and Carlisle chortled from behind me and I even heard Edward's rumbling laugh from the far corner. I smiled slightly, pleasantly surprised that I was not put off by his relaxed demeanor. I was always what people would later come to call "bitchy", but I couldn't bring myself to be displeased with his attitude.

"So…can I ask how long you've been, um, with the family?" He queried. I could tell he was trying his best to be tactful, but clearly it was not something he had been used to in his human life.

"A little over two years," I answered, silently praying that he didn't ask the question that was only a natural follow-up. But, like a curious child, he did.

"Why were you turned?"

I went to open my mouth, but Edward interjected smoothly, knowing that what was about to come out would not be socially acceptable.

"You will learn in time that some people's stories are very personal. Some of us are very willing to share how we became what we are while others of us are not so eager. It's best to let those things alone until the information is volunteered," he explained evenly.

Emmett nodded in understanding and turned back to me. "Apparently I'm not very good with social graces, even as a vampire," he quipped, shrugging his behemoth shoulders, apologetic but entirely unconcerned.

"It will come with time," Carlisle noted, effectively ending the conversation. "I'm actually quite surprised with you. Most newborns are practically frothing with thirst by now."

"Is that what I'm feeling? I'm thirsty?" Emmett asked, genuinely surprised.

"You'll get used to the sensation. It's not the same thirst we experience as humans. It takes some time, though it's vastly instinctual for most of us." He rose from the sofa and looked around at his family members. "On that note, we should probably take a little excursion into the woods to teach this one how to hunt."

"I've been hunting for almost the entirety of my human life, I most certainly know how to hunt!" Emmett interjected, looking hurt by Carlisle's words.

"I think, if you had known how to hunt, you wouldn't be sitting with us right now," Edward commented under his breath, eliciting a laugh from everyone but Emmett.

"Hey! I'll have you know that bear was enormous…or, I think it was…" his brow knitted in confusion as he tried to reconstruct his own demise which caused us all to laugh harder.

"No matter," Esme interrupted through dying chuckles. "The way we hunt and the way humans hunt are two entirely different things. We'll teach you dear. A bear will never get the better of you again; I promise." His face softened at her motherly tone and he smiled amicably, rising from the couch.

Seeing him at full height for the first time was almost overwhelming. Still seated, he absolutely towered over me, my head barely above his waist. He turned back and looked down towards me, "are you coming with us, Rosalie?"

"I'll come for the show, I suppose," I agreed and rose lithely to my feet. Even at full height, he stood almost a foot taller than me and was twice my build. But instead of feeling intimidated by this, I found it oddly comforting; safe, even. I unconsciously took a step away from him, not used to seeing a man in that fashion.

He didn't seem to be aware of my reaction or if he was he was excellent at being stoic, though I somehow doubted that. We followed our family out of the house and towards the woods, Carlisle taking a moment to explain to Emmett how to make use of our incredible speed and agility.

It was comical to see such a hulking man try to be graceful, his movements more similar to a linebacker than a sleek killing machine, but his newborn vigor overcame physics and he was soon running faster and jumping harder than any of us.

Not surprisingly, the hunt came easily to Emmett. He clearly did have training as a human as he did a brilliant job tracking and was incredibly patient while stocking his prey. He was far more agile when he was working towards a goal and not just bounding about, moving with an ease that rivaled Edward. However, he had very poor control over his own power and practically decimated the deer he'd set out after in one pounce. This happened 14 more times that night and several hundred over the next year. National Park records for 1935 blamed the Appalachian deer shortage on some unidentified disease; but really, it was all Emmett. He was more successful with big game; the sturdier it was, the easier it became.

Perched on a middle branch of a sequoia tree, I watched with interest as he interacted with the rest of my family. Even Edward – sullen, broody Edward seemed to relax around Emmett. He was so genuine, so sure of who he was, regardless of the species he'd suddenly become. I was intrigued by this, but at the same time I was insanely jealous. If immortality were to be my fate regardless of circumstance, I wished that I had come into it differently. I wished that I had been a different person when I had been alive; more aware of who I was and not just how I looked. Had I known what my heart wanted instead of enjoying being desired for my body, I never would have ended up with Royce and I very likely would have never endured the trauma I had gone through before Carlisle found me. I couldn't change my past actions or experiences, but I could change how they affected the choices I made for my absurdly long future. It would be an excruciating process, but I would learn to love and allow myself to be loved. I just had to take the first step.


	3. Beauty in the Breakdown

_A/N: Here's the next chapter, I hope you enjoy! Leave love :)_

Later that night I found myself curled up under a massive pile of blankets on my bed, listening to the crickets chirping just outside my window. I didn't need blankets as I never got cold, nor did I need a bed because we don't sleep, but I still clung to the simplest human pleasures with a vice grip. Sometimes I would even close my eyes and steady my breathing to mimic restfulness. I suppose one could argue that while we don't "shut down" like humans do, we are able to "lower the volume" to a manageable level and clear our heads of the more intrusive thoughts. I tried to do this at least once a day; it made me feel less like a freak, if only for a few hours.

Emmett, Edward, and Carlisle had all stayed out in the woods showing Emmett all of our best hunting areas, some up to 200 miles away; no doubt they would be gone all night and a good part of the next day. A soft knock on my door brought me back to reality and I told Esme to come in, my voice barely above a whisper.

She had on one of Carlisle's old dress shirts, her hair falling in soft waves across her shoulders. She had been wearing it pinned up until recently when I convinced her that she would look stunning with it framing her face. I was glad that our hair continued to grow even as the rest of our bodies stopped; I would not enjoy having the same hair style for all eternity.

She moved soundlessly across the wood floor and sat on the edge of my bed, running the back of her hand over my cheek in a motherly gesture; I suddenly wished I'd had a mother like Esme when I was a little girl. I suspect I would have turned out much differently.

"I'm very proud of you, sweetheart," she murmured, continuing to stroke my cheek. "I know how incredibly difficult it was for you to save him. But you finally listened to your heart instead of that impossibly stubborn head of yours."

I smiled weakly, almost reveling in her touch. "Did I really do the right thing, Esme?" I had so wanted to call her Mother or Mom or any variant of that, but I had yet to convince myself that it really would be well-received.

"What does your heart think?" She asked, cupping my chin in her palm.

"I…I don't know. I don't think it's ever had its own voice," I admitted. I could _never _show this degree of openness in front of anyone other than Esme, and even then it took every last effort in me to fight the urge to shut down. But I needed to get this out; I needed her to listen – to be there for me.

"When you saw him there – dying – what was going through your mind?"

"He looked so childlike; vulnerable in a way I'd never seen any man – any _adult –_ look before. And his eyes…God, his eyes were so sad! He looked so desperate for someone to save him, leaving him lying there just wasn't an option," I tried to explain, though feeling like I was failing miserably.

She knew that there was more I needed to say and she waited patiently, still running her glass-smooth hands over my face.

"The truth is? He didn't scare me; I wasn't afraid of him. As enormous and strong a man as he obviously was, I didn't get that sense of sheer terror when I was standing over him. I haven't felt like that since…before…" I trailed off, still unable to put words to what I had endured before my 'death'.

"Oh, Rosalie," Esme whispered, gathering me up in her arms with ease. She held me against her shoulder, rocking back and forth gently and for the first time since I had become a vampire, I hugged back. Hard. I needed her; I needed all of them, and for far greater reasons than just not wanting to be alone.

I stayed in her arms for what seemed to be hours, just enjoying the proximity of another person. When we finally pulled apart, she gingerly pushed my hair over my shoulders and cradled my face in her hands, holding me at eye level.

"You did the right thing, sweetheart. It is going to be scary and it's going to be painful and you are going to have to relive things that no one should _ever _have to endure once, never mind twice. No one can hurt you anymore, least of all Emmett. He sees you as a gift from God; nothing less. In his eyes, he owes you the world, and he's going to do anything to show you how much he appreciates what you've done for him. He's a very good man and I think he's going to be very good for your soul." Esme pressed a lingering kiss to my forehead and then rose to her feet, moving towards the door.

"Wait," I mumbled, knowing she could hear me. She stopped with her hand on the doorknob and turned back to face me.

"Thank you, for everything…" I hesitated, taking in a deep, unnecessary breath. "Mom."

Her comforting smile grew. "I love you, Rosalie. We all do. Don't you ever forget that." And she was out the door, shutting it noiselessly behind her before I had a chance to respond.

"I love you too," I murmured, hoping that my words had perhaps reached her.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The next month passed without incident. Emmett integrated almost seamlessly into our family (save his frequent but accidental demolishment of random objects and pieces of furniture. Getting used to strength as immense as ours was difficult for any of us, but Emmett's rivaled anything _any_ of us had ever seen, so he was understandably having a more difficulty than most) and while I still remained standoffish and on the fringes, I did what I could to be friendly and welcoming. I spent more time with everyone, joining them on hunts and playing games. Carlisle had a particular fondness for baseball, so when the weather permitted, we would play.

Like Edward, I still valued my personal time, spending a good portion of it reading or drawing. Only in the past few months had I been comfortable enough to go out around humans, so I did spend some time shopping, but Esme did insist on accompanying me still; just in case. I had recently developed an interest in motorized vehicles and managed to acquire a brand new BMW 319 sport in Rose Red (which I found terribly appropriate). Neither Edward, Esme, or Carlisle were mechanically gifted, so before I brought the car home, I set about learning auto maintenance and repair, and I assumed I would be on my own. Carlisle took me to pick it up (it would have been completely unheard of for a woman to purchase and take delivery on such an expensive car – or really any car for that matter – in 1935) and when we arrived home, I was surprised to find Emmett waiting eagerly in the driveway.

"It's magnificent! Absolutely amazing!" He was practically jumping up and down as he scrutinized every inch of it, reaching out to touch it every now and then but not quite coming into contact, seemingly afraid to cause any blemishes. "I…I never thought I'd see one of these in person! I thought they were only for royalty. Incredible, just incredible!" He stepped back as I swung open the driver's side door and he nonchalantly offered his hand to help me out, his eyes still glued to the car.

"So you're familiar with cars?" I asked, crossing my arms and moving back a few paces to inspect my newest acquisition.

"I suppose I am," he agreed. It was a funny thing, becoming a vampire. Most retain very strange memories; almost always unable to remember faces and names other than their own, but typically they recall hobbies they enjoyed or places they lived. I often wondered if it were a protective mechanism; something to prevent you from feeling guilty if you accidentally turn a family member into dinner.

"Are you?" He questioned, finally casting me a sideways glance before turning back to the vehicle.

"I'm becoming more acquainted with them, yes. I've been doing a lot of reading, but I'm still quite novice; especially in the more technical areas," I admitted.

"I'd be happy to teach you, if you're interested. I mean, you won't need to do much to her in the immediate future, but there will be oil to change and breaks to fix and clutches to replace soon enough," he said eagerly, turning to me full-on with his now-signature grin.

"I think I'd enjoy that, Emmet. Thank you," I replied, surprising even myself. This would mean spending a fairly significant amount of time alone with him and while I was still uncomfortable with the concept, I was oddly more at ease with him than I was with Carlisle or Edward. I supposed this was my second step in the right direction.

"I'm very glad. I want you to feel comfortable, Rosalie. I owe you everything and I just wish I had some way to repay you." I was taken aback by how earnest he was but completely humbled as well. Outside of my three family members, no one – not even my human family – had ever put my feelings first. It was as though my beauty should be enough and for a long time, I agreed with them. But I'd begun to see things in a very different light, greatly because of Emmett.


	4. Scar Tissue

_A/N: Hi all, here's the next installment. Please note that this is the last chapter I have 100% written and edited. I am a research scientist and working on my graduate degrees, so I have a very little amount of time to dabble with fiction, but I'll do my best to keep getting this out. This is going to be a much shorter piece than Gravity of Love (a BellaxEdward story for those of you who haven't read it and might be interested...you should check it out...I'm pretty proud of it so far :) /shameless plug) and right now Rosalie and Emmett are holding my attention much better than anyone else, so hopefully this will come a lot more quickly than GoL has been. Please, please, please R I will respond to all reviews, I promise...I haven't had a free moment to spare, so that is the next task on my agenda!! Thank you for your support and if you are lurking, please come out and say hi! It would really brighten my otherwise stress-filled days! Anyways, I hope you enjoy. This will be one of the last few chapters that are almost exclusively Rosalie-centric; we'll start to see much more R/E interaction after Rose works her way through these last few hurdles._

_As always, I don't own it...I'm just having fun with Stephanie's creations :)_

**Scar Tissue**

Emmett and I began spending several hours a day in the garage tinkering with my BMW. He showed me all of the different components of an engine and explained what each one did and how they might typically malfunction. He taught me about the tools commonly used in car repair and all of the everyday items that you could substitute for parts in a pinch. He still wasn't sure what his occupation had been previously, but whatever it was, he dealt directly with cars or had a lot of free time to learn about them. He kept his hands off the car for the most part, still figuring out how to maintain a delicate touch with objects that had once seemed almost indestructible to him, but I was still garnishing a great deal from his lessons. Regardless of what he could or couldn't do, I was grateful for his help, and – if I were going to be completely honest with myself – his friendship

I found myself becoming more and more attracted to him as the days moved forward, but I was still incredibly hesitant. He had been nothing but a gentleman, although not the kind I was used to. The men that I was brought up to think of as gentlemen were haughty, spoiled boys with more money than they knew what to do with and more education than they ever chose to use. They put on a great show for society and prospective women, but it was clear that if they were capable of what Royce and his "friends" were, they were anything but gentlemanly. Emmett, on the other hand, was genuinely kind and respectful. He treated me as an equal; as someone who deserved an opinion and was more than something physically appealing to look at. Even though I was flattered by his ability to see me as a person and not just an object, my vanity was something deeply engrained in my character, so I still had moments of fleeting distress that he – like Edward – was not the least bit interested in my beauty. The number of times I caught him staring at me from the corner of my eye while I was inspecting the engine or turned away from him to get a tool dispelled those concerns quickly.

I was a paradox in that regard, I know. I wanted so desperately to be seen for something other than my unnaturally gorgeous exterior, but I wasn't happy unless I knew that everyone found me absurdly attractive. I think it came down to the fact that I had held on so tightly to my human self, and my human self had been taught to value aesthetics above all else. Emmett somehow managed to make me feel at ease with my laughably opposing views, letting his gaze linger on me for a moment more than necessary when we would speak, but never letting it roaming inappropriately. He was also sure to keep a respectable distance between us, even when working in close quarters. As blissfully unaware as he seemed most of the time, it was clear that he had picked up on my discomfort that first day and had refrained from putting a hand on me again. This made me feel both comfortable and incredibly guilty all at the same time. I wanted him to be himself around me, and watching his interactions with our family members, he was clearly a more hands-on person than the rest of us, but around me he curbed this behavior and a tiny part of me whished that he didn't. I didn't know why I felt this way, but I decided to be grateful that he was going out of his way to treat me with so much dignity than to dwell on the fact that my mind and my heart couldn't agree on what they wanted.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It was a brilliantly sunny day in mid July when Carlisle announced that he wanted to take a trip up to northern Canada to visit some old friends. Esme, of course, would be joining him and Edward was interested in the vastly different hunting opportunities. I had figured that Emmett would go with them, so I declined the invitation, surprised that I was so looking forward to some time to myself.

I was flat out under my car, tinkering with the exhaust when I heard Carlisle's footsteps on the concrete floor.

"Rosalie?" He called. I could see his Ferragamo wingtips peeking out from behind the front bumper. For a man born close to 300 years ago, he certainly kept up with current fashion.

I pushed my head out from under the BMW and looked up at him expectantly.

"We think it is best that Emmett stay home with you. The route we're traveling isn't entirely devoid of humans and he is still so young. I know he's been surprisingly stable, but he is such a big man that we just cannot take that sort of risk," Carlisle explained. He sounded pained; he didn't like to look at any of us as some sort of liability, but it's yet another thing that we were forced to accept. We were monsters and sometimes we had to be treated as such.

I stared at him for a long moment, unsure how to respond. I briefly wondered if all vampires were as highly emotional as my family was or if it were a product of the lifestyle we chose to lead. Had I taken even a single second to actually examine what I was feeling, I would've laughed at the ridiculousness of it, no doubt. But there I was, staring up at a man that I considered my father, and all I could think was that he wouldn't be there to protect me if something _happened_ again. The irrationality of it was absolutely pathetic; I was physically just as strong as Carlisle and I was actually faster and a good deal more agile. Esme was one hundred percent right when she said that no one could harm me any longer, but the part of my brain that clung so desperately to my human life screamed that I was just some fragile little girl and I had no way to defend myself against the big, bad world. And beyond that, after all the kindness and friendship Emmett had shown me, to think that he would be so sadistic was sickening. I felt the anger boiling hot and thick in the pit of my stomach for even thinking that he would do to me what Royce and his goons had. Emmett deserved so much more from me than my displaced demons.

Carlisle's brow creased in growing concern that I had yet to respond. I mentally stripped my voice of any other emotions and replied. "Fine. But I'd best be getting something out of this. I hardly think it's fair that I have to 'babysit' while the rest of you go on vacation," I bit out haughtily. _Let him think that I was trying to keep my annoyance at not getting my way in check. Let him think that I'm just a selfish, petulant child who wants her way. _

But he was neither an idiot or uncaring. He sighed. "It'll be fine, Rosalie," he said softly, the creases smoothing from his face. "And if it'll make you happy, I'll see what I can do about arranging a little getaway just for you. Perhaps a long sail down to the Tropics on your own yacht," he mused. I knew that wasn't a hollow promise; if I wanted to go sailing on a private ocean liner to my very own island, Carlisle could make it happen, but I knew that he was really just saying that to placate me.

I nodded once, curtly, and rolled myself back underneath my car without another word. I could almost hear his lips turning up into a small smile and then he stepped away from me.

"This will be good for you, Rosalie," his voice came quietly from just inside the house. "We all love you and just want to see you live your life in peace."

I let go of a shuddering breath and turned my full attention back to my car, pausing only briefly to acknowledge them as they chorused their goodbyes.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It wasn't until several hours later, after doing all I could to the BMW and making my way back into the house that I saw Emmett. His massive frame was sprawled out on the wide oak floor boards in the sun room, a game of solitaire spread out before him. His chin was resting on his stacked fists as he surveyed the cards. He looked so innocent, so boyish lying on the ground doing something so _human_. He had no idea I was standing there, watching him. I had only recently mastered the art of complete silence when I moved around; I prided myself on being the only one in our family able to accomplish this. To human ears, we were all undetectable; even Emmett would be with just an ounce of restraint. But I had managed to become almost ghostlike even to Carlisle if I so chose. I suppose it was a coping mechanism; knowing that I could remain entirely aloof if I wanted to be. Esme and Carlisle thought that Edward was the "difficult" child – the recluse, the brooding one, but I was just as disconnected. I just happened to do a better job hiding it.

He let out an almost comical sigh and pooled the cards together; obviously there were no legal moves left. I felt the corner of my mouth twitch involuntarily, secretly thrilled that even when playing a meaningless hand of cards by himself with presumably no one watching, he still had enough integrity to stick to the rules. I took a light step forward, purposefully making my presence known and he turned over his shoulder, a wide grin on his face.

"I was just about to start yet another game of solitaire," he gestured towards the pile of card with his chin. "But since you're here, any interest in playing something for two?" His eyes were wide and eager, looking excited at the prospect of having someone to do something with.

"Sure," I agreed evenly. I took a slow breath, about to step forward into the room to join him, but then I caught a glance of myself in the hallway mirror. _Oh hell, I look a mess!_ I scolded myself, shocked. I was usually so careful not to get myself dirty…ever. Never a hair out of place or a speck of anything on my clothing; but there I was, splotched in grease and motor oil, my hair tangled and flat from lying under my car for so many hours. "I'd just like to freshen up first, if you don't mind."

"Freshen up?" He repeated incredulously, appraising me quickly before meeting my eyes again. "What for? You look striking as always and it's not like there's any need to impress me. You've already done an astounding job of that." His words were blunt and honest, but I immediately replayed them, searching for any sign of a patronizing tone or even the slightest hint of an ulterior motive. I came away with nothing.

"Well," I balked, completely unsure as to how to respond, so I chose to bristle and put on a front to keep myself safe. "I feel dreadful is what for! If it's neither here nor there to you, then I'm going to go change." My words were sharp and definite. I knew I was being ridiculous, but I couldn't seem to help myself. I still had no idea how I was supposed to behave around him, so maintaining my arrogant wit seemed like the best thing to do.

"Oh Rosalie, don't be like that," he murmured as I turned to go. I immediately spun on my heels and glared at him, fully expecting that he'd back down. Apparently I didn't look as vicious as I thought I did because he just raised an eyebrow, waiting for a reply.

"Be like what, Emmett?" I ground out, my lips purposefully twisting around his name in mockery.

"Like that!" He gestured vaguely at me in exasperation. He rolled over into a sitting position and looked up at me. "You can be so…intolerable sometimes! We seem to get on so well and then I say something that I think is nice or flattering or whatever the right word for that is and you completely shut me off! I'm trying to become a part of your life, Rosalie! I'm trying to be open and honest with you and you act like I'm burning you! I'm not expecting you to blush and giggle at my compliment, but I don't really appreciate you burying me for it, either. I don't know what I've done to put you off or what I'm triggering, but I'm not trying to be the villain here," he finished more quietly, his knees drawn up and his elbows resting on them casually. If I had understood him then as I do now, I would've recognized that he had stayed seated as to not seem threatening to me; as to not use his size as a method of intimidation.

I was blown away by him and remained frozen, staring down at his soft countenance. He always seemed so happily unobservant that I assumed he wasn't paying attention, but clearly he was more aware than I had ever considered giving him credit for. I opened my mouth to speak, but closed it again, not knowing what to say. He didn't push me, keeping silent as he watched my face with interest. I felt like every carefully laid fortress I had so painstakingly assembled had just smashed to smithereens and I was standing completely naked and exposed to him. My slender fingers curled into my fists and I shut my eyes tightly, willing myself to remain in control.

"You haven't the _slightest_ fragment of an idea as to what I've been through. You have _no_ right to judge me like that!" I growled, my words slow and hard, fired precisely from my lips. "What could you possibly know about me?"

"I know that you have been judged your whole life, Rosalie. It doesn't take any sort of special ability to see something so abundantly clear. I would never seek to judge you, I am merely observing your response to me and trying to make you see what you are doing. I know that you're terrified of _something_. Though whether it's me, or it's this life, or it's something I'm entirely unaware of, I have no idea. But sometimes you are so plainly frightened and I can't help but think I have a part in this. That makes me physically ill," he murmured, watching me through thick lashes. "I wish you felt safe enough to open up to me, to give me a little insight into your mind. I think it must be very lonely, being you. I want nothing more than for you not to feel lonely any longer." He sighed deeply, rising to his feet with astonishing grace. He moved towards the mammoth picture window facing out into the woods and leaned his palms against the sill, staring out into the obsidian night. "You might not think that what we are is a gift, but I do. I still have a life to live and things to look forward to and that means something to me. And you are the reason that I am still here. I feel so incredibly indebted to you and I want to do something to change that. But unless you give me any inclination as to what that something is, I am essentially helpless."

He was still focused on the inky forest, but my attention was fully trained on him. I was struck by his incredible composure, though he was the first change I had witnessed, Carlisle had made it very clear that newborns were very volatile and often irrational creatures. I had no doubt this would be the case if Emmett were to encounter a human at this stage, but for him to keep such a calm demeanor during an obviously stressful and frustrating conversation was no ordinary feat.

"Emmett…I…I…" But I couldn't bring myself to speak what was truly begging to be set free. So instead, I ran.


	5. Going, Going, Gone

_A/N: Here is the last monologue chapter! I hope this gives just a little more insight into Rosalie's mind and helps you to better understand my perspective on her life. I'd really appreciate any feedback you're willing to give, even if it's just to say you do or don't like the direction this story is going in. The next chapter will have lots of R/E interactions, promise!! Enjoy!_

If one were able to travel an exactly straight route from deep in the Appalachians in Tennessee to Rochester, New York, it would be just under 500 miles. Accounting for highly populated areas and dense forestry, I ran almost 800 miles in less than six hours.

I had not been back to Rochester since I had garnered my revenge on my attackers, and when I set out that night, I had no intended destination in mind, so it was vaguely surprising when I found myself in the low thicket behind my childhood home. Unlike Edward or Esme or Emmett, I knew _exactly _where I lived, down to the number of steps between the main stairwell and my bedroom.

The growing city was still asleep in those pre-dawn hours so I was safe from the risk of exposure, both to the still-tempting smell of human blood and from being found out. While I was infinitely more beautiful than I had been when I was living, I still bore a slight resemblance to my former self and it would be entirely possible for someone who knew me to recognize my face and simply assume that I had grown up in the time that I had been missing (though all of Rochester presumed me dead by that time, so it was direly important that I remain out of sight. It's far more difficult to explain a ghost in the flesh than it is to remain invisible). It was an incredibly stupid thing that I did next, but my mind was not in a place of rationality; I had, after all, ran almost 800 miles after being complimented by a man that – if I had to be entirely honest with myself – I was falling for.

Rochester of 1937 was much different from the Rochester of the 21st century. It was perfectly safe and acceptable to leave a door unlocked at night; it was simply something no one gave a second thought to then. I glided up the back steps and through the porch door that led into the kitchen, like I'd done a thousand times before when I was living. Thankfully the lore regarding vampires being unable to enter an inhabitance without being invited was just that. I glanced carefully around the small space, noting the tiny changes that had occurred over the last two years; a new icebox, a shiny set of steak knives, bright yellow curtains in place of the old power blue ones that I remembered, a placemat missing from the breakfast nook.

_My placemat._

I left the kitchen and floated into the formal dining room where we would have dinner every evening. I closed my eyes and called up the memory of my father's frequent discussions of President Roosevelt's Fireside Chats over my mother's famous pot roast. It was less that my father discussed these things and more that he would lecture us – particularly my brothers – on the finer points of politics. He was considerable harsh with his critiques, but he also had a good amount of respect for our president, so even when he disliked his policies, he still spoke of him with admiration. It seems like such an insignificant thing for me to recall, or to even consider, standing in the dusky room while people who were once my family were sleeping upstairs, but it was the best memory I had kept of my father. It truly is peculiar how perceptions shift when you are a vampire. I intuitively knew that if I were to hide out behind my house and wait for dinnertime to roll around and listen to my father give another of his lectures, it would not leave me with the same impression that it had when I was human. As self-absorbed a child as I was, listening to my father's diatribes conjured both pride and awe in me, so much so that I would forget myself for that hour and just become enamored with the fact that it was _my_ father who was speaking so intelligently and eloquently about such impressive global issues. It was during that little bit of time that I was able to see the passionate, handsome man that my mother had married and not the even-keeled, slightly rotund husband and father he'd become. It was like getting to know a whole other version of him and I enjoyed that immensely. I never got the chance to see my mother step out of her cookie-cutter role as housewife and commander and I regret that to this day. I still recall that I had been greatly looking forward to having _that_ mother-daughter talk with her on my wedding night, and while I eventually did get to have that very same "heart-to-heart" with Esme, a small part of me still yearned to experience it with the woman it had been originally intended for.

I felt a small knot settling in the pit of my stomach and I let my eyes flutter open and the memory slip away. I came here to get closure, not to cling more tightly to things that would never again belong to me. I noticed another change then, and this one was strangely more uncomfortable than my missing placemat. My mother always re-set the table after dinner so that she had one less thing to do the next day – that and she also thought it made the room look more presentable. I had fully expected to find my chair and place setting missing, but there right in front of me was my usual spot, waiting for me to join them for dinner. I hadn't asked Carlisle what provisions he had made when he turned me; I really hadn't wanted to know. I suppose I had just assumed that he would take a body from the morgue of a girl similar in proportions and age with some sort of wounds or disfigurements that made her unrecognizable and then passed her off as me with some ingenious cover story. Whether that was actually the case, or he just left it for people to believe that I had run away or disappeared, I didn't know, but in either event it was as though they were expecting my return. I took a soundless, shuttering breath and spun on my heel, heading for the main staircase.

My bedroom, just at the top of the steps, also remained untouched. My bed was neatly made and my clothing lay out on my dressing table as though I was going to wake up the next day and put the outfit on. A book sat open on its pages on my nightstand; I don't recall reading it, but it appeared I was more than halfway through. I didn't bother to check the title. The hats I had tried on before going to Vera's that night were still on top of my bureau and a pair of shoes still just outside my closet door. The room appeared freshly dusted and the sheets turned; clearly the fact that it hadn't been lived in or otherwise touched in two years hadn't deterred my mother from keeping things in order. I thought perhaps it would've made sense that she put away the few things I had left lying about, but I suppose if she were holding on to the possibility that I would one day return she wanted to keep things precisely as I had them; perhaps it was the only way that she could continue with her life.

It was unsettling, sympathizing with a woman whom, despite being my own mother, I felt I barely knew. She was a woman of few words, obedient and subservient to a fault, focused almost exclusively on creating a flawless image for everyone else to admire. The interactions I remembered having with her were full of directions and orders, instructions on how to be a proper lady, on how to attract a man without appearing desperate or loose or even interested. I remembered harsh, under-breath corrections of improper behaviors in public, the quick pinch of the underside of my wrist to remind me to sit up straighter and smile more ignorantly. But beyond those short, inconsequential interactions, I still cannot remember much of her as a _mother_. The only recollection I have ever had of her hugging me was the day Royce announced our engagement, and even then it was a stiff, proper embrace and not the type of hug a mother should share with her daughter on such a purportedly joyous occasion. Even my father had been more affectionate with me than my mother had; while I was alive I had been vain and conceited enough to think that she was jealous of me, but looking back on those hazy memories I could only wonder if she was more concerned for me than anything. Being a woman was not an easy job in itself and being a beautiful woman at that was even more precarious. I never took notice of any of the negatives, not while I was alive, at least. I was content to be envied and desired and seen for nothing more or less than my aesthetic appeal. But my mother knew just how hard things would be for me; she recognized that I was intelligent and that in time, being admired would not be enough for someone like me. I wondered briefly when I would've grown out of that phase, if I ever would've developed into a woman and not just some self-indulgent girl who got everything she had ever wanted and couldn't care less if the rest of the world was falling to pieces around her. I wondered if I would've been a good mother, if I would've figured out how to be kind and loving with my children, if I would've been capable of the things that my own mother had not been.

I forced my mind away from the things that would never be; I would never get over the ache of missing the experience of holding my very own child in my arms and it did me no service to linger on such things. I backed out of the room and silently slid the door shut, carefully avoiding the floorboard that always creaked to the right of the doorframe. I paused for what seemed to be a very long time, wanting so badly to look in on my parents and my brothers even for just a second, just to see their faces one last time. I let my fingers perch delicately over the doorknob to my parent's suite, but before I could even close my palm around it, I stopped myself. This was no longer my family, or my house, or my life. They no longer belonged to me as I was no longer their daughter. I had people who loved me – people who wanted very badly for me to love them – hundreds of miles and a universe away from this place that were very real and very much mine. It crashed over me then, why I ended up in that house, why I had to be there at that moment after everything that I had endured. This was my chance to let go, to move on from a life that had once been mine but had nothing to do with me any longer. As much as I cursed this existence, it was mine and I had to learn to accept it and that meant putting things I could no longer experience somewhere out of my mind. I knew that I would never forget, and I knew that I would never truly be okay with the idea of immortality or never having a family or a real life with a beginning and an end – or a traditional end, anyways – but there had to be some point where I let go and moved on. I was given an opportunity that almost no one else gets to experience; the chance to start over, to become someone else and learn to live life as I was meant to in the first place. And I had to take it.

I ran from Emmett because he was so _real_. He was so tangible and such a part of this new life and so accepting of everything that we were and are. He was so willing to see _me_, not just as a gorgeous statue or as a static creature of extraordinary power and grace, but as a whole person with flaws and emotions and needs. No one had _ever _looked at me in the way that he did that night, no one had ever _seen _me. Even Carlisle and Esme only got fragments, never quite solving the sum of the parts. But Emmett…there was something unbelievably special about him and I was too terrified to see what that was, or even to let myself try and find out.

But going to Rochester, getting to experience that last little bit of true humanity, to revel in the things that I could remember that eluded other vampires so completely was like finally reaching the final stage of grief: acceptance. In that moment, standing in the hallway of a home that no longer belonged to me, listening to the heartbeats of people who were no longer my family, I was able to accept that this was no longer mine to hold on to. It didn't mean that I would ever be completely comfortable with what I had become, but I was able to understand the necessity in it and embrace the monster and the woman I was congruently. For so long I had been trying to separate the angel and the demon, but learning acceptance was not about suppressing the part of yourself you despise, it was about embracing it. If I were to ever love anyone again, I must first love myself; all of myself. I had to accept what I had been through as a human and as a vampire, I had to accept that I was capable of significant destruction, but that I was also capable of living a full, happy life. That perhaps I was lucky to have an eternity with those that I loved or would love and that standing there, in that hallway, between a life I lived and a life I was determined to make the best of, would be the last time I'd ever have to say a true goodbye.


End file.
